Page 29 of Ruthless Dream

Now every time I close my eyes, I’m faced with Jack, his hand digging under my dress, trying to worm his fingers into my pussy.

I pause right outside a grocery store, hugging the wall as I take a deep breath. No wonder I keep thinking about Ciaran. His hands were reverent in comparison as they trailed across my skin.

I square my shoulders, rolling my neck. Whatever he may think, I’m not opening my legs for him anytime soon.

I’ll get rid of him. Just like I’ll get rid of Wallen, the arms dealer.

Pulling out my phone, I search his name on the internet. Other than the soirees I help Mom with, I rarely come into contact with Dad’s business associates. There’s no image online, not even a profile.

I didn’t think he’d have a LinkedIn page, but there’s got to be something, right?

A message appears, my belly dipping.

Ciaran: Stop Googling his name.

The asshole won’t stop texting me.

I crawled into his bed on Friday night. At first he settled beside me, but he moved at one point. I’d closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I don’t want to think about how all the survival skills trained into me mysteriously disappeared. He’d slid handcuffs over my wrist, locking me to the bed.

Then he left the apartment.

Flashes of all the bad shit you see on the evening news flew through me. Surely, at some point my family would have to save me from the Irish psycho.

He came back hours later, creeping into the bedroom and sliding under the covers again.

“Where’d you go?” I mumbled.

“Got rid of the body.” He settled on his back, his voice sleepy. It would have been cute if I wasn’t chained to the fucking bed.

I watched him sleep for five minutes before slapping his chest.

His long lashes fluttered open, the scowl instant.

“Let me go!”

He closed his eyes again.

“I’m serious.” I didn’t even try to hide the panic. The girlish plea. I wasn’t asking to go home. I’d settle for my dorm room, where I could curl up under the covers and never complain about my roommates again.

“I have to go.” When he didn’t reply, I changed tactics. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

A deep breath left him.

“Do you want me to piss in your bed?” Jesus, what the fuck are the Irish into? The metal of the handcuff rattled against the bedframe as I tugged at my restraints.

“You are used to having everything handed to you on a silver platter,” he said, eyes closed. “Unfortunately, that is not the case anymore. If you can sit there quietly for five more minutes, I’ll consider letting you get out of the bed.”

“Do you normally have to trap women? Are you that shit in bed?”

His hand cupped my cheek. “You’ve been given everything in the world, Adeline Marie, but where did that get you last night? Alone, almost raped and murdered.”

His breath skittered across my skin, his face hovered so close. His thumb moved across my cheek. “You think being wild is being independent. That being a bad girl makes you tough. You need to learn to listen and to be patient.”

“And what? You’ll be the guy who teaches me that?”

His thumb stroked my cheek again before he lowered back on the mattress. I sank into the pillows as best I could, hating life.

Five minutes later he unlocked the handcuffs. I scampered to the bathroom, yelping when I realized he’d followed me.